


Burn the past

by FreeShavocadoo



Category: HiGH&LOW (Movies), HiGH&LOW: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Motivations, Moving On From the Past, Multi, angst & fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 13:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15365271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeShavocadoo/pseuds/FreeShavocadoo
Summary: The journey to get here had practically dragged all of his expectations through the dirt and over shards of glass, any fragment of control he’d assumed he had left had been thrown out of the window along with his position in the Yakuza. The years he’d fought through for respect and status were all deemed worthless, all for this one man. All for Smokey.





	Burn the past

The weight of a head on his lap does little to deter Nikaido from scrolling on his phone with his other free hand, taking special care not to move too violently. His other hand rests in a tangled mess of hair, the subject of his affection barely stirring at the soothing movement of fingers against his scalp.

 _Nikaido,_ he thinks, _no, Kain,_ he corrects himself, _you are fucked._

The journey to get here had practically dragged all of his expectations through the dirt and over shards of glass, any fragment of control he’d assumed he had left had been thrown out of the window along with his position in the Yakuza. The years he’d fought through for respect and status were all deemed worthless, all for this one man. All for Smokey.

 

* * *

 

 

_The rain was pouring heavily, rendering most of the makeshift houses in the Nameless street relatively useless, not that they had any other option. Those fortunate enough to have rooftops that were made of metal sheets were gifted with the rhythmic sound of the rain pattering relentlessly against it, the sound echoing down the otherwise empty street. For some reason, Kain finds these nights the most comforting. Sitting up on one of the few ledges covered by a roof, even if it had gaps in it, allowed Kain to see over the majority of the street. It brought him an odd sense of peace, something that he finds himself almost always lacking as of late._

_The familiar ache of hunger pangs in his stomach, reminding him just how long its been since he’s eaten anything substantial. The clothes on his back are beyond ‘well-worn’, holes in the sleeves of his shirt, the knees of his jeans. The cold bites in through the rip in his jackets side, the three layers of shirts doing little to protect him from the damp chill seeping through his bones. He wonders if this is any way to live, if the people outside of this street realise how lucky they are to have cupboards full of food and a wardrobe full of clothes. Even the most impoverished area outside of the Nameless street can barely come close to the struggle that is living here._

_“Kain,” a small and slightly dirty blanket is wrapped around his shoulders firmly, bringing him a respite from the shivering that was starting to make his muscles sore, “you shouldn’t be out here in the rain. It’s too cold.”_

_Kain always understood why people stopped to listen to Smokey talk. His voice was quiet, it was measured but it made people strain to listen. He wasn’t what people expected when they thought of the Nameless street, he was eloquent and philosophical and even if Kain mocked him for it, he could still appreciate how someone with so much responsibility and so little time for self-care could manage to speak so impressively._

_“I’m fine.” He replies. He knows what the younger inhabitants of the Nameless street think of him. That he’s too harsh, too sharp around the edges. They think he has no sense of family, not the way that they do. Kain wishes he could bring himself to ask them all where they thought **his** family from the Nameless street had gone, the generation just a few years older than them. What life had already dealt them all was a death sentence in of itself, yet to actually see some of his family wither away into nothing until they could no longer stand or breathe felt more like dying by proxy. Those who weren’t crippled by hunger or plagued with illness left, some came back, and others didn’t. He heard people talking about them sometimes, with tones of disgust. Kain wonders why it seems so unfathomable that someone would want to leave a place that survives only to kill them all. He thinks he would, if he could._

_“You’re doing it again.” Smokey sits beside him, close enough that Kain can feel the heat of Smokey’s body through the blanket and all of his clothes, yet he finds this less comforting and more concerning. The others had insisted that Smokey would get better, that it was just a virus that was persisting due to being in a bad environment. Kain knew better. Smokey was hardly the first to fall to this mystery illness and Kain had yet to see anyone survive it._

_“Doing what, exactly?” He counters, turning his head to give Smokey a scathing look. Whilst Smokey requires a gentle hand and Kain would never dream of hurting him, he can’t help the frustration that sits in the pit of his stomach when he stares at him. His anger is more at this place that causes illness to plague Smokey’s body, to deteriorate him, rather than at Smokey himself. The fact that he can distinguish this, however, still does little to stop him from being angry._

_“Thinking too much.” Smokey moves the blanket around Kain’s shoulders upwards, now covering his neck. Kain can’t help but wonder if Smokey was always naturally attentive to others or if he had to teach himself to be, but it still makes him envious. For Kain, he could only care so much. When he lost more people, the little shreds of empathy he had left seemed to barely hold a candle to Smokey._

_“Funny, coming from you,” Kain moves to put his hand over Smokey’s forehead, pushing his hair back to feel the temperature before moving his hand to the back of his neck as well, “you’re having another fever. You need to lie down.”_

_“I’m fine.” Smokey replies, his thoughtful eyes seeming to soften when they landed on Kain, most likely in response to Kain’s attempt at pretending to cover up that he cares._

_“No. You’re not.” Kain stands, pulling Smokey up by lifting him under his armpits, saddened by how easily he can lift him without straining. Although Smokey is most probably irritated at being treated this way, forever denying that he needs assistance, Kain doesn’t care. He can sulk all he wants, Kain thinks, but he’s picked the wrong person to sulk at._

_In the time it takes Kain to move his hands from supporting Smokey, Smokey’s knees give out beneath him and Kain has to try extremely hard not to look as distressed as he momentarily felt, before realising its just fatigue. Thankfully, he’d still been standing relatively close and manages to manoeuvre Smokey onto his back successfully. Smokey’s arms circle his neck and his grip is weak, Kain having to take special care to walk slowly._

_“Please don’t tell the others. They’ll only worry.” He whispers into Kain’s neck softly. Kain wants to tell him that he doesn’t really speak to the others much anyway. That the thought of getting close to them scares him. It doesn’t help that they are so close to begin with. It was a closeness Kain had no intention of involving himself in. So he nods, not feeling the need to verbalise anything, knowing that Smokey probably understands him entirely anyway._

_By the time he reaches the room Smokey sleeps in, the rain is unbearably loud, and the air has a cruel chill. Smokey’s eyes are drooping as Kain manages to move him onto the mattress, cupping the back of his head so he doesn’t bang it on the mattress on the way down. Moving all of the blankets over him and repositioning the pillows is second nature for most of the Rude Boys now, but Kain in particular moves efficiently and swiftly, ensuring that the blankets cover him properly and that the roof isn’t leaking._

_“Stay.” Smokey whispers, so quietly Kain almost doesn’t hear him over the rain. Kain debates if he should just leave and get one of the others to come in here, wondering if it will spare him the pain of feeling Smokey’s ribs under his fingertips when he holds him, the sound of his coughing when he wakes up in the middle of the night suddenly. It’s only the hand that Smokey holds out to him that makes him change his mind, grabbing onto it automatically. In a surprising show of strength, Smokey pulls him down beside him, moving the blankets upwards to allow Kain to slide under them properly. For what seems like the millionth time, Kain wonders why the world has treated Smokey so terribly when he deserves the world itself._

_Although it conflicts him to do so, Kain wraps his arms around Smokey and holds him close, thinking all the while about what exactly he can do to fix this._

* * *

 

“You’re doing it again.”

Smokey’s soft brown eyes stare imploringly up at Kain from his lap, his head turned upwards. Kain can’t help but notice how long his eyelashes are, how soft his skin looks. The medication had been a long and arduous process, involving sleepless nights, muscle pains and nausea on top of multiple other issues. Now, however, Kain notes that Smokey’s cheeks flush healthily, not startling warm to the touch. His gaze is sharper and focused, so much so that if Kain were not used to searching stares as much as he was, he’d have attempted to hide his face.

“I thought you were supposed to be resting.” Kain replies shortly, pulling at Smokey’s hair slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to be slightly unpleasant. “Mind your own business.”

Smokey laughs, for once no chorus of coughing and spluttering following it. The laugh is rather quiet by normal standards, very airy and benign. Not for the first time, Kain is left momentarily speechless by this slender, benevolent man. The man who took him back the way nobody ever had before, treating him with a level of care he’d never known he’d needed or wanted.

“It’s a little late for that, Kain.” His fingers trace over Kain’s face delicately, down the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks, over his lips. Kain feels almost overwhelmed, Smokey’s stare still full of intensity even with his head tipped backwards. Smokey sits up slowly, turning to face Kain properly with his knees resting against Kain’s own crossed legs, kneeling in front of him.

“Is that so?” Kain inquires, arching his eyebrow. Smokey’s eyes crinkle immediately, never one to misplace Kain’s prickly temperament with genuine annoyance. He moves his hands forward to rest on Kain’s legs, leaning his weight forwards. His face is inches from Kain’s, soft eyes twinkling dangerously.

“It is.” He tilts his head minutely, brushing his lips against Kain’s so tenderly that it’s a touch softer than a feather, Kain only being able to relish the softness of Smokey’s lips for a millisecond. Knowing Kain too well, Smokey moves one hand up to cup the back of Kain’s neck instantly, right before Kain was about to lose all patience. The kiss is torturously slow and Kain knows it’s Smokey’s way of teasing him, yet somehow, it’s too much and not enough at the same time. When Smokey pulls away, he smiles.

 _Asshole_. Kain thinks.

 

* * *

 

_His fingertips are practically numb from the cold at this point, grasped around a cup tightly. Although countless figures move past him, too many to count, not one stops in front of him. Everyone averts their gaze and continues down the street, like Kain is something filthy not worth a glance. Every single time another head points away from his direction, he has to stop himself from flinging the cup at them. From yelling that he’s not some dirty, lowly beggar. That he can’t get a job because nobody will so much as talk to him unless absolutely unavoidable, that he’s not fuelling a drug habit or an addiction. That he’s here because someone he loves is dying and the only thing that can possibly help him is something none of his family can afford, because money is what makes the world go around here so clearly their world is static whilst everybody else’s is moving._

_“Bit of a cold night to be out by yourself, wouldn’t you say?”_

_Kain’s head snaps to the man standing to his left, startled by how quickly he was snuck up on, never used to being surprised. It barely takes a moment to register that this man is Yakuza, Kain wonders briefly how long he could feed Smokey for with the money that the mans suit is worth. By Rude Boy standards, probably for a year. Whilst the mans face is hardened, only made more intimidating by his blunt haircut, his eyes are crinkled, even if his smile doesn’t seem to reach them properly._

_“It’s not the first time. It won’t be the last.” Kain replies, wondering what exactly possessed this man to stop in front of him on a crowded street. The Yakuza groups around this area tended to prefer Oya high for scouting, considering it benefitted them to recruit boys who grew up fighting but had no major ties to their surroundings once they’d eventually graduated. Rude Boys were usually too attached to their self-proclaimed families, so the Yakuza mostly considered them a lost cause in this regard._

_“It could be,” the man stares at Kain directly in the eyes and Kain feels slightly overwhelmed at the sudden attention, “if you wanted it to.”_

_“Meaning?” Kain snaps back at him, unsure why he feels the need to be hostile and put on a front when he’s both scared and intrigued by this man._

_“Meaning when you want to stop being the trash on the sidewalk and start being the man who owns the street, let me know.” He replies, dropping something into Kain’s cup before walking away at a leisurely pace._

_Kain can barely believe his eyes when he looks into the cup, a neat roll of money so large that it almost filled the entire cup sitting neatly secured with a rubber band. Kain doesn’t even think he’s ever seen a quarter of this amount of money. A small card lies on the outside of it, with a name and contact details._

_Tatsumi Iemura._

* * *

 

“What is it?” Smokey rests his head on Kain’s shoulder, blinking sleepily. He clearly decides being beside Kain isn’t close enough so instead choses to slide fully onto Kain’s crossed legs, facing him directly, sitting in his lap comfortably. His arms latch around Kain’s neck and his legs wind around his waist, Smokey settling back down with his head on Kain’s shoulder once more.

Kain always finds it amusing how Smokey can turn what would otherwise be a rather sexual sequence of movements into something so intimate and loving. Kain wishes he could have that same inkling of innocence in his movements, having passed through too many one-night stands with people and faces he can barely remember. Men, women, they all never filled a void he was clearly trying to fix when he’d scrunch his eyes up tight and lose himself in the physical pleasure but be left emotionally absent.

“I miss him.” Kain replies, holding the back of Smokey’s neck, running his nails from his hair to the stretch of skin just above his shirt. When Smokey shivers, Kain smiles to himself, winding his other arm around Smokey’s waist to slip a hand up the back of his shirt and repeat the motion down his spine.

“Mmf-,” Smokey whines slightly, shooting Kain a small glare, “Kain, stop it. I can’t concentrate when you’re touching me like this.”

“I can’t help it.” Kain smirks, continuing anyway.

“I miss Shion too.” Smokey manages to reply, holding onto the fabric of Kain’s soft shirt and nuzzling his face against Kain’s neck.

Kain never found himself missing the suits terribly, not after having to acclimatise to life as a Rude Boy again. It was almost impossible to successfully scale a building in a three-piece suit, he’d found. The soft t-shirts and baggy jogging bottoms had taken a while to get used to, yet somehow it just worked for him.

“I don’t think Shion misses me, though.” Kain admits, giving up on any attempt at pretending like that wasn’t bothering him. Smokey always saw through him, it didn’t matter how perfect his mask was when he knew exactly what was underneath.

“Of course he does, Kain. We all did. We all do,” he moves away from Kain’s neck to look at him, his eyes as soft as ever, “I’m not saying what you did was right. However, we all know that you’d had the best of intentions when you’d started. It wasn’t easy for you to leave but you did.”

“I’ve done terrible things. I’ve enjoyed doing terrible things.” Kain sighs, grabbing onto Smokey’s chin and staring at him, “so please. Don’t tell me I’m a good person, because I’m not.”

“When did I say that?” Smokey stares at him, challengingly, reminding Kain that for all of his soft edges Smokey was still someone who had undergone an immense amount of pain with no intention of letting someone harm his family, even if it was at his own expense. People often assumed Smokey was too gentle or naïve, yet he possessed a quiet confidence. Whenever anyone was to challenge him, he’d smile ever-so-slightly, in the awareness that people _could_ try and challenge him but Smokey definitely wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“I suppose you didn’t.” Kain admits, marvelling at the man in front of him. Whilst Kain had let himself be swayed into a lifestyle that had taken a lot of the traits that he’d developed out of survival instincts, turning them into weapons used both for the Iemura group and against Kain himself, Smokey had remained exactly as he was before. Unrelenting, empathetic, shrewd. Never sacrificing himself or who he was for anything or anyone.

“No. So stop rolling around in self-pity and let’s go to bed.” Smokey says firmly, once again wrapping his arms and legs around Kain’s waist with such familiarity Kain wondered if he should tell Smokey to walk there himself just to teach him a lesson. Then he remembers he never really was good at not giving Smokey what he wanted.

* * *

 

 

_When he hangs up, he takes a moment to look at the phone. The Yakuza referred to it as a throwaway phone or a burner phone, yet Kain couldn’t fathom throwing anything like this away. It was small and modest and by the average persons account, cheap and useless. Yet the materialistic tendencies of the average person didn’t sit well with Kain._

_He takes one last look at the shack he otherwise grew up in, taking in the sheer instability of the entire structure, wondering how it had lasted as long as it did. Part of him feels sad, if only for a moment. Surviving in such a place was a miracle of its own, yet when he looked at the size of the tiny bag he was holding, realising that this was all he had from his time here, he wonders if it’s any way to live. He knows that the others can justify a poor condition of living by relying on family, yet Kain couldn’t justify seeing someone he loved dying slowly in front of him. If he had to leave this place to make that better, then that is exactly what he’d do._

_Kain knows deep down that it’s not his leaving that will upset Smokey, but the fact that he didn’t say goodbye. That he didn’t tell him why he was doing what he was doing. Kain wishes he could somehow explain to him that if he sees him, his resolve will crack and his walls will crumble until there’s nothing left. If Smokey hating him, never seeing him again is what it takes in the pursuit to have him cured of his illness, then that is exactly what Kain will do._

 

* * *

 

Depositing Smokey on the bed is down to a fine art by this point, Kain placing him gently over the mass of blankets and attempting to lean back. Smokey grins, his arms and legs remaining around Kain, trapping him above Smokey momentarily. As soon as Smokey starts to laugh, a mischievous and childish laugh, Kain can’t help but laugh along with him, laughing so hard he practically all but falls onto Smokey, wheezing into his chest. He can’t remember the last time he laughed like this, the last time he felt so young and free. When Smokey strokes down his back, Kain doesn’t even know why his eyes start to blur with tears, why they start to fall so heavily they’ve already left a massive damp patch on Smokey’s shirt.

“It’s okay,” Smokey whispers soothingly, as though Kain suddenly regressing into tears after a manic display of laughter was normal behaviour, “I’m here. I’m here, Kain.”

Trusting Smokey is the only reason Kain allows himself to cry properly, to whimper and whine the way he wants to. He hasn’t cried for years and it showed, his sobbing making his back shake violently. Through it all, Smokey’s arms remain around him, holding him close and not pushing him away.

 

* * *

 

 

_“I don’t know if this is-,”_

_“Shion. If you don’t want to do it, don’t. You’re the one who wanted money and this,” Nikaido motions to the red rum factory, a work in progress, “is how you get it.”_

_“Kain-,” Shion starts, drifting off when he is met with a cold stare and narrowed eyes._

_“Nikaido.” Nikaido corrects him, resenting the way the name still had such an effect on him, still dragged him back to a time when the ache in his stomach made him feel like he was dying, when the few nights he’d fall asleep before he started to feel the full effects of hunger were a brief respite. He resents the memories._

_“Nikaido,” Shion starts with uncertainty, “do you think this is a good idea?”_

_“It doesn’t matter what I think, Shion,” he replies, walking out of the door without looking back, “because you’ll do it for him anyway.”  
_

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Kain has opened his eyes again, it’s the evening, the room cast into darkness other than the dim glow of a bedside lamp. He lifts himself from his position over Smokey, rolling onto Smokey’s side instead to watch him sleep, Smokey’s hand still holding his. His eyes open and blink groggily before he kisses Kain’s forehead.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks, kissing Kain’s hand.

“Yes.” Kain replies stiffly, still not used to being shown such care and consideration or seeing such a level of devotion aimed at him.

“Good. The others were worried.”

-

_“Burn your past,” he says to Noboru, recognising the familiar glazed expression of someone caught in the trauma of a past they cannot escape, “burn it and it can no longer hurt you.”_

_“Is that what you did?” Noboru’s gaze lands on him and for a moment, Nikaido feels scared, feels vulnerable, “Nikaido-san?”_

_“We can all **try** , Noboru. Our success is measured by how we move on from it.” His voice is cold, but Noboru barely wavers. It is at this point Nikaido knows that Noboru is probably a lost cause, too embroiled in the love of his friends and mistaking his misplaced anger from the night he got put in prison with being a hatred for them. Nikaido has no doubt that it’ll dawn on him soon, that a Yakuza family cannot compare with a real family. A real family does not base it’s love for you on a fickle measure of success or failure, it is unconditional. This is not._

_“Thank you.” Noboru nods stiffly, exiting the room. One more loose end he’ll probably have to sacrifice part of himself to tie, Nikaido muses._

 

* * *

 

“Kain!” Yu bounces onto the bed with such vigour that Kain is lifted from his position for a moment, before Yu leans over him with a grin. “Miss me?”

“You mean _us_.” Takeshi corrects, seating himself at the foot of the bed. “Are you feeling better?”

Kain can’t find it in himself to speak so he just nods, unaware of what it is he ever did to deserve compassion from the very people he left behind at one point in his life.

“Good. You had us worried.” Pi pats his leg, gifting him with a radiant smile. Kain savours the moment, revelling in the feeling of being looked after, of being the centre of attention for good reasons.

“See?” Smokey tickles Kain’s neck, “I told you they cared.”

Kain huffs, never one to admit when he’s wrong. Yu curls up by his other side, winding both of his slender arms around Kain’s one arm, hugging it like a cuddly toy.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he giggles, “I just think you’re the best person to cuddle.”

Takeshi snorts, giving Pi a look that seems to set Pi off into his own fit of giggles, rolling around on the bed and laughing harder every time Takeshi pulled a face at him. Kain watches the scene with a new kind of ache in his chest, a warm and comforting one. When Smokey tucks his head back near Kain’s neck on his other side, he almost feels overwhelmed all over again, but in the best way possible. Yu grins at him before closing his eyes, his grip still tight on Kain’s arm.

He wonders, not for the first time, how he ever left his family behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Well this was a labour of love. Hopefully it was worth it.


End file.
